Wounded
by SleeplessDays
Summary: She was anything but weak. And to prove that, she needed to make sure that they didn't know. It's not like it was really that bad. A short story that takes place during the infamous Butler marriage before everything falls apart.


_In case you're wondering why I write so many things like this, I have no idea. I'm weird. __**Should I compile all of my short little one shots into one story or leave them separate? Court of public opinion, what do you have to say?**_

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Scarlett drew in her lower lip, biting it in her anxiousness. Her nervous fingers fumbled with the satin of her dress. She constantly brought her left hand back to her right wrist and pressed against the tissue. She knew she was not helping by would more, but she couldn't help testing it. Each time she massaged the joint, she tried to take note of how painful it was. Was it worse than last time? Maybe it was a little better. No, that definitely hurt more. Her concern over the injury nagged at her mind constantly and made her uneasy.

She debated telling someone about it, but then quickly dismissed the thought. Mammy and Rhett would conspire to keep her at home until it fully healed, and she would go insane if she were forced inside that long. If it had been her left hand, she might have given the option more consideration, but as it was, there was no way she could say anything. She needed her right hand to write, and if Rhett knew she couldn't comfortably manage a single letter, even the ledgers would be off-limits.

It's not like it was really that big of a deal. She could still get the numbers down, and the pain was nothing compared to some of the other things she'd been through.

Scarlett pushed on, the numbers looking more like Ella's handwriting than her own. By the end of the day, they had regressed to the squiggly blobs Bonnie usually produced when attempting to imitate the printed words in storybooks.

Frustrated by the illegible characters and the awfully distracting pain shooting up her arm, Scarlett gave up shortly before supper time. She gathered the unfinished ledgers and slowly meandered out to her carriage.

She rode home, cursing that every bump in the ride seemed to rattle through her injured arm. She did her best to manage the reins making anything worse, but she still had to fight back the pained tears.

Her arm, although it still looked mostly normal, had swelled and discolored slightly. Hopefully Rhett wouldn't notice anything.

It couldn't be too serious, she had only fallen. The pain and minor swelling, however, were still concerning.

When she arrived at the mansion, Scarlett plastered a neutral expression on her face. Better not to prompt a dig from Rhett about her "beloved" Ashley—whether it be about Ashley's affection or coldness. It would only lead to her exposing the things she wanted to hide.

She unknowingly tucked her right arm into her side, as if it was held there in a sling.

Scarlett swept into the hall with an affected air of regality. Her chin lifted proudly, she dismissively glanced around. There was no one in sight, but she couldn't take the risk of dropping her act. Rhett had the tendency to hide in the shadows and pounce when she let her guard down.

Supper came and went with no confrontations or suspicious comments about the neglect of her right arm. She managed her utensils well enough with her left hand, and the meal didn't include anything she needed to cut with a knife. The only hiccup was when she first reached for her glass and realized how awkward it was to cross over her plate with her left hand. Although Rhett had raised an eyebrow at that, he said nothing, and Scarlett transferred her glass to the left side of her plate.

It made Scarlett wonder why she'd made such a huge deal of it in her head. Rhett hadn't even noticed. Why would he? It wasn't as if a splintered bone stuck out of her arm, it was simply a little painful. It was probably just a strained muscle, and it was no big deal.

Scarlett fled to her study directly after the meal concluded. She'd been dreadfully slow earlier in the day and had only completed a third of what she usually did.

Absorbed in the numbers, she'd missed the ruckus outside the door until a wobbly, one-year-old Bonnie burst into the room, Ella helpfully having pried the door open.

Rhett and Wade were right behind them. Rhett scooped Bonnie into his arms before she could tumble over her own clumsy feet.

"Good evening, my pet. I'm sorry for the intrusion, but Ella and Bonnie were craving your company. I hope you don't mind. They'll head to bed soon anyway." Despite his respectful tone, there was something mocking about his demeanor.

"Don't be a goose, Rhett," she scoffed.

"I'll take that as a yes." Rhett slid onto the sofa with Bonnie in his arms and Ella trailing behind. Wade hovered awkwardly before settling beside his stepfather.

Scarlett turned back to her the ledgers and continued her attempts to finish her work. It was so much more difficult with the amount of pain she was in. Properly holding the pen was a struggle in itself. She couldn't stand to apply more than the faintest pressure or grip it any more than strictly necessary to keep her loose grip. As a result, her writing was still as atrocious as earlier in the day. She focused entirely on making the numbers at least half legible, blocking out the others.

She almost jumped out of her chair when she heard Rhett speak from directly behind her.

"Is something wrong?"

"Rhett! Don't startle me like that," she gasped. "I was just updating the ledgers."

"Are you sure," he asked, smirking. "Does it count if you can't read them later? I'm not sure that you could really call those numbers or letters." He dropped the amused smile. "Is there something wrong with your hand?"

"What? Don't be ridiculous," Scarlett said dismissively.

Rhett, ignoring her protests, captured her wrist and began to examine it. He didn't miss the pained squeak that escaped Scarlett the instant he grasped her arm.

"How much does it hurt?" If she didn't know any better, Scarlett would have thought he sounded almost tender.

"Oh, it's really not that bad."

Rhett shot her a disbelieving glare and shook his head. "It doesn't help if you keep lying to me. I don't know why you feel compelled to hide your injuries. Now, tell me what happened and how bad it is. I can't help you if I'm in the dark."

Scarlett reached her left hand over and took the pen from her right before laying it on the desk. "I don't know, it's really not too bad. It just hurts to use that wrist. It was just an accident at the mills."

_Scarlett had arrived at the mills at around 10 am. She'd slept later than she meant to, but it was not very important. She owned the mills, and she would come in whenever she damn felt like it._

_Ashley happened to spot her on his way back to his office from an errand. In true gentlemanly fashion, he approached her carriage and offered to help her down. _

_Scarlett, of course, accepted the offer, and the two made their way inside while inanely chatting. _

_How are the children? Oh, the same as always. How are Melly and Beau? He's grown another couple inches. He wants to be a lawyer alongside Wade. Melly's been missing you. She was hoping you'd visit when you're available. Well, I'm rather busy with the store and the mills. Maybe when I get some free time I'll stop by. _

"_Scarlett?"_

"_Yes, Ashley?"_

"_You really should come visit. Melly would love to have you for supper."_

"_Oh, well, I'll talk to Rhett and see when we're available."_

_Ashley's face contorted with scorn, and he began muttering under his breath. _

_Scarlett, having caught only Rhett's name from the mumble, furrowed her brow. "Sorry?"_

_Ashley was seemingly startled by the question, but nonetheless quickly replied, "It's nothing. I just worry about you, my dear. I don't believe for a minute that your husband's as reformed as he wants us to think, and I can't stand—"_

_Unfortunately for Ashley, things were not working out in his favor that morning. _

_First the burned breakfast, then the lost glove and the tear in his coat. He'd soured another deal that morning, and the ledgers were already in a jumbled mess. _

_Now he was falling, and his instinct told him to grab onto the unsuspecting Scarlett for stability. _

_This had the opposite effect, and they both tumbled to the ground. _

_Ashley hit the dirt but rose largely uninjured. Scarlett was not as lucky. _

_She'd subconsciously flung her arms out to break the fall, and while her face remained unscathed, her palms stung from the rocky dirt, and sharp pains shot up her right arm. _

_"Forgive me, Scarlett. Are you hurt? I didn't mean to cause your fall."_

_Unwilling to appear weak, she tossed her head stubbornly and quickly rose from the ground. _

_"Fiddledeedee, Ashley. I'm perfectly fine. Now stop fussing, there's work to do."_

_She regretted the decision to keep quiet. The gown she'd slipped into that morning was ruined, but that was not her chief concern. No, she was more upset that her palms were still red and raw while her right arm was painfully swelling._

But she couldn't admit her own weakness, especially not in front of Ashley. Although it occurred to her after that she could have used the situation to play the damsel in distress, she was not going to abandon her pride for a momentary comfort born out of guilt and obligation.

She wouldn't do it for Ashley's attention, and she wasn't about to do it for Rhett's.

"An accident?" One eyebrow was raised mockingly.

"I tripped."

His other eyebrow joined the first.

"You tripped? That's all? I never took you as someone extraordinarily clumsy."

Scarlett shrugged and tried to pull her arm from Rhett's loose grasp.

He let her arm slip away but did not return to the sofa. Instead, he hovered behind her while she settled herself at her desk once more.

"Where was the honorable gentleman when all of this occurred? Surely he would have saved you from such distress," Rhett sneered.

Scarlett cried out in frustration and irritation. She slammed her good arm against the desk shot up from her seat. "Oh, you shut your mouth. I've had enough of your questions and mean comments. I'm going to bed."

Wade, who had been watching them with a quiet intensity over the top of his book, felt dread build in his chest. Ella let out a frightened sob at her mother's sharp tone. She turned her face away from them as if it would keep Scarlett from noticing her. Bonnie, now lying on the ground with Ella, did little more than babble unhappily.

Although Scarlett failed to notice their fear while consumed with her own irritation, Rhett did not.

"I wasn't trying to insult you, Scarlett," he said kindly, ignoring her scoff of disbelief. "Why don't I send for Doctor Meade? He can look at your arm while Mammy puts the children to bed."

"No, I don't need a doctor." came her stubborn reply.

Rhett spoke patiently. "Alright, will you at least let me look at it? I will read them a bedtime story and then come back to get a better look at your wrist. It has to be bothering you."

Scarlett gave a neutral hum and turned away from him, signaling the end of their conversation.

She was content to flip through the couple of letters she had in a pile on her desk as Rhett corralled the children and ushered them upstairs. She thought of responding to her sisters and aunts but knew she'd have to wait until she was at least partially healed. Even then, would she really respond to Suellen? No, she'd write to Will. She wanted another update on Tara, and he could pass along some overused phrase to Suellen.

Scarlett almost didn't hear it when Rhett re-entered the room quietly. She glanced up at him leaning against the doorframe from under her eyelashes and then cast her eyes back down.

He approached her slowly, as if she was a frightened horse that could bolt any minute. It made her want to scream at him.

Rhett knelt beside her and took her arm without saying a word. He began to lightly apply pressure, starting at her elbow. She remained completely passive until he got to the spot just above her wrist. He'd pressed his thumb into the most painful spot, and Scarlett whimpered.

She was about ready to slap herself for that. Did she actually just whimper? Scarlett continued to berate herself while Rhett carefully prodded another spot a little lower on her arm.

After a few minutes, he seemed to have completed his evaluation and raised his head. Rhett gently took a hold of her chin and forced her eyes to meet his.

"You know, you should really tell me when something like this happens. I think this arm is going to be out of commission for a couple of weeks." He continued when he realized that she wasn't going to say anything. "I think we need to immobilize this arm. Riding home must have been uncomfortable for you. Did you drive yourself or did Ashley bring you back?" He was almost able to completely mask the irritation that flared with that question. "I can send Pork and a stableboy to go fetch the buggy if I need to."

"No, I drove myself home."

Rhett's face shifted slightly in a way that Scarlett was powerless to understand.

"I'll have Pork bring you to collect the ledgers tomorrow. I know you like to look over the mills, so you can fetch them, but I'll do them for you. You can even watch me to make sure I'm doing a satisfactory job. Is that alright with you?"

Scarlett nodded slightly, mesmerized by the kindness and intensity in his dark eyes.

The bubble burst when Doctor Meade was let into the room by Pork.

Scarlett's face was overtaken by a scowl. "You called Doctor Meade? I told you that I don't need a doctor."

Rhett's eyes snapped with amusement and the corner of his mouth came up in one of his famous smirks. "I thought it would be better to get another opinion. Afterall, I'm no doctor. Plus, he can get you to actually take care of your arm. Heaven knows that if it was just me, you'd disregard everything I have to say."

The anger cracked, even if the frown prevailed.


End file.
